T. R. Oh, please, I didn’t know you was a Policeman, Sir, or I shouldn’t ha’ spoke! Strike me dead I was on’y in fun! (Whimpers.) And I’ve a good ole mother at ’ome, Sir.
The Person in Search of Sensation. What, another arrest? and simply for showing a red handkerchief! I shall write and describe these atrocities. How abominably these police are behaving—actually defending themselves, the blackguards!
[A Policeman accidentally lifts his arm, whereupon about fifty youths scurry like rabbits; in the rush, the Person in search of Sensation is hustled and slightly trampled on. He becomes annoyed, and hits out right and left—eventually striking a Constable in his excitement.
Const. (who has been without sleep for the last two days and has just had his cheek laid open by a stone). ’Ere, you come along with me, you’re one of the wust, you are!
The Person. But I assure you, I just came to see what there was to be seen!
Const. Well, you come along with me, and you’ll see a Magistrit presently.
[The Person resists; struggle; arrival of reinforcements; exit party, in “frog’s-marching” order, conveying him to fresh sensations.
The Lover of Liberty (emerging from crush). My hat ruined, my coat split down the back, and my watch gone! I told the crowd I was with them heart and soul—and they hit me in the stomach! What do we keep our police for, I want to know?
Professional (emerging in opposite direction). Three red clocks, two pusses, and a white slang, I ain’t done so dusty! ’Ooray for the right o’ Free Meetin’, I sez!
Genuine Unemployed (wearily). Well, I dunno as I see what good all this ’ere is a goin’ to do hus! [And no more does Mr. Punch.